4 x A MILLION, LAMBOURN'S GREAT LOSS, THERE IS ONLY ONE VENETIA & THE BOOK I WILL NEVER BE PARTED FROM.

Although it is a significant landmark to achieve £4-million+ in prize-money, and the first National Hunt trainer to do so, I hope it is not a sign that Dan Skelton will go on to become as dominant in Britain as Willie Mullins in Ireland. This is nothing to do with the man himself; he is a credit to the sport, but if it becomes a case of Skelton always first, the rest nowhere, the sport becomes predictable and that would be unhelpful in rebuiding its popularity. We need each season to begin with uncertainty as to who will win the major races and which trainer will emerge with the champion's trophy come late April. Although I was unhappy last season that Dan was mugged by Willie Mullins when it seemed going into Aintree that he was home and hosed, the manic surge from unlikely to all-out winner by Mullins made it as exciting a finishing narrative as there has ever been to the trainers' championship. It was good fun; two highly likeable people engaged in friendly rivalry for an important title. I will say the same about Sean Bowen topping the leader board by such a margin that he could take the rest of the season off and still be crowned champion for a second time. Sean needs a rival, even if that rival has the same surname. 

I would be perfectly content if Skelton was champion trainer for five-years in a row if Henderson, Nicholls, Mullins or Pauling or anyone, engaged with him in a battle that went down to the final fixture of the season. It was said of Eclipse, 'Eclipse first, the rest nowhere'. That could not have been much of a contest and neither has the trainers' or jockeys' championships this season.

It is unbefitting of me to say a word on the death of Miriam Francome, ex-wife of John. My only acquaintance of her was through her association with John and later Charlie Brooks, yet on reading of the genuine sadness expressed by some of Lambourn's most eminent residents it is cystal clear her death will be hard-felt by all who knew her. Until it was announced by Ed Chamberlain yesterday on I.T.V. racing that she had died, I had not given any thought to her since I last read John Francome's autobiography 'Born Lucky' and on reading how loved Miriam was by, seemingly, everyone who knew her, it is hard to imagine why or how her marriage with John fell apart. I know the story of her arriving home and finding all her possessions on the front lawn but that was only the conclusion of a sad tale. It is not the how or why. I hope she found happines in later life, and not only with her dogs and other animals. I believe the world would be a better place if there were more John and Miriam Francomes around. Good people must be savoured, helped and respected in life; not only mourned in death for the quality of their living character.

Today's feature piece in the Racing Post today is Venetia Williams and her phoenix from the ashes win of Martator at the Cheltenham Festival. It was possibly the best received win by spectators of the meeting, a representation of Venetia's popularity. Venetia is an example of why I believe the sport of horse racing has no class barriers. Venetia is as good as aristocracy, a fast lady with a penchant for fast cars, yet she it is not judged by the riff-raff like me by who her antecedents were but by the quality of her character, a bloody good trainer who refuses to let standards slip, someone who is loyal to the people she employs, just ask her stable jockey, and who evidentally believes horses are horses and as far as being the athletes they are, she gives them daily doses of freedom, thinking that is better for their souls than being mud-free. If I could ever afford to buy a racehorse, she would be top of my list, along with the likes of Kim Bailey and a few others, and hand on heart I would love L'Homme Presse to win the Aintree National for her.

I am pretty certain that now Michael Tanners reprint of 'My Friend Spanish Steps' - only fifty signed copies are available - is the featured book in the Racing Post's Sunday Review column, that all fifty copies will quickly be snapped-up. It is a book I will never be parted with and a book I hope will be in my hand when my wretched remains are lowered into the ground. Buy now, it is not expensive at £14.95p.